


Here is the Place Where I Love You

by LadyNimrodel



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, One Shot Collection, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pretty much anything people leave in my inbox, Tumblr Prompt, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 16:01:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6476704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNimrodel/pseuds/LadyNimrodel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I asked tumblr for prompts and I wrote fics for each one. So far they include kissing in the rain, visiting a WWII reenactment, Bucky baking for the rest of the Avengers and much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kissing in the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #1: Kissing in the rain! This actually turned out a little sad so I'm going to write a happier second part to this. Enjoy!

Rain drops hiss against the tent tarps of their small camp and patter dust into mud, a loud roar of sound that heralds the break of a week-long heat wave. Already the air is cooler and Steve breathes in the dampness, the scent of wet dirt and vegetation thick in his nose. He is still getting used to being able to breathe without the air catching in his lungs and sometimes he just stops and greedily sucks in as much air as he can because it’s so novel. 

In the lull between missions and in the breaking of the heat, Steve stops just inside his own tent and marvels at being able to do something he couldn’t before the serum. 

For probably the millionth time since the procedure, he silently thanks Dr. Erskine for picking him. 

As he stands at the opening of his tent and watches the heavy rain turn their small camp into a haze of shadows and mist and mud, movement off in the trees catches his eye. For a moment alarm flares through him, thinking the enemy has taken advantage of the low visibility and gotten past their perimeter. But then he realizes it’s just one man and he recognizes the gait and the set of the shoulders. Bucky disappears a moment later between the trees, lost in the downpour and Steve feels an irrational stab of fear. 

Without hesitation, he hastens to follow, soaked through only three steps out of his tent. Dernier is on watch, for all the good it does in this weather, hailing him as he sloshes through the mud. Steve just waves him off, since speech would be useless and hurries in the direction he saw Bucky moving. Rain pours down his back, flattening his hair and making his clothes cling to him. After the heat, though, it feels good and he doesn’t even mind as it gets into his eyes. 

He’s worried about Bucky, though. Has been since pulling him off that table and out of Hydra’s hands. Bucky has been quiet, shadows hiding in his eyes and something haunted in his smiles. But when he asks about it, in the rare times they get a moment alone away from the rest of the Howling Commandos, Bucky just brushes him off. Tells him it doesn’t matter, that he’s fine. 

“Stop worrying about me, Captain,” Bucky snapped the last time, expression closed off. Steve had tried not to show it but it had hurt. The distance that Bucky is purposely trying to put between them and the way he spat Steve’s rank. But Steve is nothing if not stubborn and while whatever is going on isn’t affecting Bucky’s performance on the field, it can’t continue either. 

Away from camp and the steady drumming of rain on canvas, the woods are quieter. The patter of water is soft on the leaves overhead and it soaks his legs as he strides through the thin underbrush. Visibility is still poor, though, and after a while, Steve thinks maybe he missed Bucky. Another spike of fear shoots up his spine at the thought of Bucky getting too far away from camp but just as he opens his mouth to call out, he catches a pale figure at the base of a particularly large pine tree. 

Steve lets out a shuddering sigh of relief, even though Bucky’s thin uniform shirt is stuck to his torso and his dark hair drips into his eyes, making him shiver. He is watching Steve move through the trees with his arms crossed, mouth pressed into a thin line. But he looks…vulnerable. Like a rapier sword Steve once saw on display when he snuck in the museum when he was ten. Thin and cold and deadly but easily smashed if blocking a blow from a broadsword. 

“Buck,” he calls as he gets close enough to see the ice in Bucky’s blue eyes. It terrifies him and he wants to hold Bucky close. Wants to rip the world apart for taking Bucky’s beautiful warmth, and charm, and kindness and replacing it with pain. Bucky’s mouth twists. 

“Can’t take a hint, can you?” he says, voice hard and Steve stops a few feet away, shrugging. Rain slides into his mouth when he speaks. 

“Never could,” he tries to smile but it falls flat when Bucky remains cold and closed off. Steve sighs and rubs his hand through his sopping hair, “I’m worried about you. You can shut me out if you want but I can't keep quiet while you suffer,” Bucky makes an impatient noise in his throat, eyes flaring hotly. 

“It’s a fucking war, Steve. We’re all suffering! This isn’t a fucking vacation!” Steve takes a step forward, hand out to touch Bucky’s shoulder but he drops his arm when Bucky glares warningly. 

“I know it’s not. Please, Bucky, you know I know that. I just…” he bites his lip, blinking rain from his eyes that feels hot like tears even though he’s not crying. Bucky stares at him for a moment longer before clicking his teeth together impatiently. 

“They experimented on me,” he finally snarls, the words painful like they are being dredged up unwillingly, “They strapped me to that table, pumped me full’a shit that made it feel like there was a fire trapped under my skin over and over and…” he makes a noise as he jerks his eyes away, shivering as rain slides over his skin. Steve aches but he stays quiet because now that Bucky has started talking, he can’t seem to stop, “I’ve never known pain like that. Like…like I was being turned into something else…something not me. But I didn’t fucking break, Steve. No matter how many needles were stuck into my bones and no matter how often I hallucinated that you or Becca or Ma were standing over me, all they got from me is my name, rank and serial number,” the last is said desperately, like he needs Steve to understand that. 

Unable to stay still anymore, Steve breeches the distance between them and gently tugs Bucky to him. At first he thinks Bucky will dig in his heels and refuse to be pulled in but he goes, abet with ill grace. He feels like a plank of wood at first, shoulders rigid and arms stubbornly folded so his elbows dig into Steve’s belly. It’s still strange, being a few inches taller but Steve uses them to his advantage to rest his chin on Bucky’s wet hair. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner,” he murmurs, clutching Bucky tight and shivers himself when Bucky kind of melts all at once against him. Like his strings have been cut and he can’t stand upright if he’s not clinging to Steve. His arms come around Steve’s back and he willingly tucks his head against Steve’s newly broad chest and Steve feels selfish relief rush through him. Relief that he’s holding Bucky again, especially since he came so close to losing him. 

“How could you have known, you punk?” Bucky mutters unhappily but doesn’t move away. The rain rushes down around them, filling their boots and chilling their skin but Steve wants to stay here forever like this. Finally Bucky huffs, moving his hands over Steve’s broad shoulders, “I’m never gonna get used to you being the size of a damn house,” and he sounds more himself than he has since the factory. Steve lets him change the subject for now.

“It’s not that bad,” he says a little defensively. Bucky pulls away enough to eye Steve up and down, expression skeptical. 

“Hmm, nah, I guess not,” one hand slides down over the wet fabric of Steve’s shirt, exploratory, and the shirt might as well not even be there. The touch burns through him and he’s suddenly aware of every place their bodies are pressed together, “I liked you skinny, though,” Bucky sounds a little put out. Steve huffs a laugh. 

“That’s not why you ever liked me, Buck,” he returns confidently and his breath catches when Bucky looks up at his through dark, damp eyelashes. There’s a flush on his cheeks from the cool rain and his lips are slick and inviting. They curl at the corners when he smiles, fond and a little sad. 

“Good to know you’re still a mouthy little shit,” he murmurs. Steve swallows and dips his head to rest on Bucky’s shoulder. 

“I know you’ve been through some shit but I fucking swear I won’t ever let them get their hands on you again,” Steve says tightly, feeling the promise all the way down to his bones. Bucky grips his shoulder with one hand and hair with the other, forcing Steve to look at him. His eyes are serious and his smile gone. 

“You can’t make that kind of promise, Steve,” he says seriously, tightening his grip on his hair when Steve opens his mouth to argue, “Don’t. You can’t make that promise because you don’t know what’s gonna happen, okay? And if something does…” Bucky breaks off, eyes dark with shadows and nightmares. But he continues after only a short moment, “If something does, you can’t blame yourself. You gotta keep going for me,” Steve feels the words like a punch in the gut but he nods when Bucky shakes his handful of hair a little. 

“The same goes for you, you know,” he responds quietly, watching the way rain drips down Bucky’s nose and clings to the edges of his collarbones. He gets stuck on the water at the corners of Bucky’s lips, though, and before he knows it, he’s tasting it, licking it away only for more to collect in its place. Bucky parts his lips on a sigh, letting Steve lick away the rain water for a few moments before drawing him close into a real kiss. 

It’s familiar and it’s not. Steve is the one who has to tip his head down now, a new angle for them to get used to. But the shape of Bucky’s lips are the same, as is the taste behind them, hiding behind straight teeth and untouched by the rain. It’s wet, naturally, and desperate but Steve gets a little lost when Bucky sucks on his bottom lip, when he groans as Steve traces the shape of his lips with his tongue. And as they kiss, the rain runs between them, cool and slick. Steve pulls away reluctantly when his knees start to feel a little weak, cupping Bucky’s face with both hands. His eyes are dark and lovely when they meet Steve’s gaze. 

“I will keep you safe, Bucky,” he says, heart aching. Bucky’s eyes flutter closed and he looks sad again, though Steve doesn’t know why. 

“I know you will, Stevie,” but it sounds like he doesn’t believe it. Steve doesn’t know what more he can say so he kisses Bucky again and doesn’t know why he feels like he wants to cry.    
The rain washes away the taste of the kiss but the heat lingers, even after the storm has passed.


	2. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was: Bucky and Steve go incognito to a WWII reenactment, where there is sass or confusion or amusement or all three. Courtesy of the lovely newlife-oldsoul on tumblr! 
> 
> Steve and Bucky go to the reenactment and are not quite sure what to make of it.

“Who’s idea was this?” Bucky asks out of the side of his mouth as he and Steve stand behind a thin yellow rope at the edge of the field along with dozens of other people. His hands are jammed in the pockets of his hoodie and his hat and sunglasses shade his face from the thin March sun. He’s glad it’s still cold enough out that long sleeves don’t look that strange. The whole incognito thing would be much less successful if his metal arm was on full view. Steve shifts next to him, wearing similar attire right down to the sunglasses. It’s shocking that the thin disguise has worked but so far, no one has recognized Captain America. 

“That would be Tony,” Steve says, sounding as weirded out as Bucky feels. Good, at least he isn’t alone in that. 

“Of course it was,” Bucky mutters, “Why did you even listen to him when he brought it up. Usually you shut that shit right down,” a kid jostles him on the other side and Bucky grits his teeth. Two years away from Hyrda and recovering and he still really, really hates crowds. 

“I don’t know,” Steve sighs, sounding irritable, “It didn’t sound like the worst of his ideas. And I think he was actually trying to be thoughtful for once,” he’s quiet for a moment as they watch a couple dozen men in replicated American WWII uniforms march behind an old tank. On the other side, about the same amount of men have taken cover behind a thickly wooded tree line wearing German uniforms where they’ll “ambush” the American actors as soon as they get close enough. Steve shoots him a glance, “Natasha might have had a hand in it too,” he admits and Bucky rolls his eyes. He should have known. 

There’s a gunshot that makes them both tense, even though they knew it was coming, before Bucky heaves a disgusted breath. 

“Half of them aren’t even holding their guns right,” he complains and gets a dirty look from a man standing nearby. He frowns and hunches his shoulders a little but he stands by his complaint. Steve hums. 

“Maybe you should go out there and show them,” Steve suggests, voice light with humor and Bucky can’t help but snort a laugh. 

“Yeah, we could probably go out there and show them how it really happened, just the two of us,” he’s half joking but he does wonder what would happen if they tried. As soon as Steve revealed himself as Captain America, everyone would undoubtedly be delighted. The thought leaves a bad taste in Bucky’s mouth and they both fall quiet for a while, watching the scene play out. 

It’s actually not all that bad, considering. But the details are off and it’s all he can do not to grumble. Steve doesn’t stay quiet, making soft comments under his breath that makes Bucky smile or outright laugh a couple times. 

“It’s weird,” he finally concedes as the reenactment slowly comes to a close, “Watching this on American soil, you know?” It was so different from the dark forests of Germany or the colorful fields of France. Watching the war they knew happen on home ground is disconcerting. Steve shrugs his broad shoulders, though he seems to feel the same disconnect. Bucky scans the audience for a moment and notes the stooped veterans watching with their families. They wear grim expressions, some with wet eyes that are shadowed with memory. And something in Bucky softens. Steve must see what he has because his face has gentled, an almost-smile on his lips. 

“It’s nice, though, that they do it. Remind those who fought that what they sacrificed hasn’t been forgotten,” something thick clogs Bucky’s throat and he reaches out with his metal hand to curl his fingers through Steve’s. 

“Does that include us?” he asks as the actors line up in the field to the cheers of the crowd and give a salute. Steve is quiet for a moment. 

“Could be, I guess,” he squeezes Bucky’s metal fingers as gently as if they were his real ones, “But our war never really ended. This was…nice, I guess, but it belongs to the men that came home,” Bucky hates it but Steve’s words ring with truth. He tugs on the place where they’re connected, pulling Steve away through the crowd that is slowly beginning to disperse. They’ll be more scenes over the course of the rest of the afternoon but it’s time for them to go home. Maybe he can talk Steve into taking a couple extra days on the road, see a couple cities they (or at least Bucky) have never had a chance to visit. Take their time moseying back to the city. 

They are nearly at the parking lot, under the barren shade of two huge, bare oak trees, when a voice stops them.

“Excuse me, Captain?” Bucky sees Steve tense then turn with a kind of resigned air that he always has when he’s recognized. An old man leans against a polished wooden stick watching them with dark eyes, his back straight despite his years. A young couple stand a little distance behind him, likely one of them his grandchild, but otherwise he appears to be alone. He cracks into a wrinkled smile when he realizes he indeed recognized Steve. Bucky hangs back a little like he always does but the man’s eyes take them both in equally, “Ah, I thought I recognized you both,” Steve glances at Bucky over his shoulder, to which Bucky just lifts one shoulder. 

“I’m rather recognizable these days,” Steve starts only to be waved away with one boney hand. 

“Nah, not from the tv or anything like that. You and the Howling Commandos saved me along with most of my unit back in the war. 63rd Infantry. Poland ‘43. We were dug in, screw six ways to Sunday and here comes Captain America and his Howlies to save the day,” he’s beaming and Bucky suspects he’s smiling to keep the memories crowding up behind his eyes and spilling over, “I never did get a chance to thank you. Both of you,” he reaches out his free hand and Steve shakes it warmly, “Corporal Liam Singer, sir,” 

“Yes, I remember you boys. Keeping Hydra troops at bay is no small feat. You impressed all of us that day,” and he means every word. World War II may not be their war anymore but it defined them and everything they would do after, “And please, call me Steve.” Bucky bites his lip. Not likely. 

“I was mighty glad to hear they found you, Captain, even after all these years,” Liam goes back to leaning heavily on his stick but his eyes are sharp when they zero in on Bucky, “And you, Sergeant Barns. After everyone thought you were dead,” Bucky quirks a mirthless smile. 

“Doesn’t seem to stick that well, it seems,” he responds. 

“Well, good,” Liam says with a confident kind of finality that Bucky finds comforting. Steve shoots Bucky a warm look he can read right through his sunglasses that he has to look away from for fear of giving himself away, “Anyway, thank you for coming here. Even if I’m the only one who recognized you, it means a lot,” Corporal Liam then gives a little wave before hobbling back to the couple waiting for him, gesturing wildly with his free hand. The girl smiles at him, giving him a warm hug and Bucky turns away glad that Liam is well loved. 

“Well, that was…” Steve begins as they continue walking back to the car and Bucky grins. 

“Heh, yeah it was. Good though,” and Steve makes a soft noise of agreement. 

They pile into the car, a black, sleek thing borrowed from Stark’s garage, and are quiet as they make their way out of the parking lot ahead of most of the traffic. The engine is a low rumble in the background as Bucky watches nearly identical corn fields flicker by outside the window. It isn’t until they are on the highway that he turns to Steve. His hat and sunglasses are gone, blond hair a little messy and Bucky reaches over to run his fingers through it, smoothing it down. Steve’s smile is beautiful and his eyes very blue when he takes a moment to glance momentarily away from the road. 

“Before, when you said that…the reenactment is meant for the men that came home, did you mean that we haven’t? Come home, I mean?” Bucky asks quietly. Steve bites his bottom lip and Bucky has to suppress the sudden desire to suck on it. Plenty of time for that later. 

“Not now,” Steve finally says, voice soft and his eyes dart to Bucky’s face again, like he can’t help himself, “I thought so, after the ice. But now…” he smiles a little and reaches over with his right hand to clutch at Bucky’s so their entwined fingers rest on Bucky’s thigh, “I have you, Buck. You’ve always been my home,” Bucky stares at him, heart in his throat and breath suddenly short and then he has to look away, out the window in order to get himself under control. 

“Yeah, Steve,” he croaks, wondering what he did to deserve this, “You’ve always been my home too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please come drop me a prompt on tumblr (lament-for-nimrodel)

**Author's Note:**

> If you have a prompt you'd like to have written, please come drop me a message on tumblr. I'm lament-for-nimrodel


End file.
